Dream Girl
by Stoneheart1
Summary: Do dreams mean something, or are they just dreams? A recurring dream of Harry's has him wondering just that. But does Harry really seek the answer? Or does he know the truth already, but refuses to accept it?


Dream Girl

  
  
  
**Author's Note:** Owing both to the long layoff, and to the fact that the in-progress Two Hearts deviates from the writer's prime ship, this story is being posted to set things back on their proper course. Harry/Hermione forever!  
  
**Disclaimer:** We all know that I am _not_ J.K. Rowling and I own _none_ of these characters, right? Right!  
  


***

  
  
  
The weather was unusually warm for September. Harry and Ron lay on their beds, hands behind their heads, staring up at nothing as their drawn bedhangings cavorted in the soft breeze sweeping through the dorm room.  
  
"You know anything about dreams?" Harry asked lazily, as if thinking aloud.  
  
"Well," Ron thought with as much effort as he could muster on a day such as this, "you usually have them when you're sleeping -- unless you're daydreaming through one of Professor Binns' boring narratives in History of Magic."  
  
"I'm serious," Harry said. "Do dreams mean something?"  
  
Ron's head shot up.  
  
"You're not dreaming about You-Know-Who again, are you?"  
  
"No," Harry said quickly. "Nothing like that."  
  
Ron sank back down with a sigh of relief. Harry's dreams about Voldemort last year, both before and during the Triwizard Tournament, were nothing to joke about.  
  
"I mean," Harry said, "do dreams mean something -- or are they just -- dreams?"  
  
"Does this have something to do with Divination?" Ron said wearily. "Because I'm feeling too good right now to spoil it by thinking about Professor Trelawney."  
  
"No, just something I've been thinking about."  
  
Ron lifted himself up on one elbow.  
  
"So, let's have it."  
  
Harry did not answer.  
  
"Is it too personal?" Ron asked.  
  
"It is," Harry said. "But -- well -- "  
  
Ron sat up now and swung his legs off the bed.  
  
"I've had this dream for a long time now," Harry said. "It's always the same. I'm on the Quidditch pitch, on my Firebolt."  
  
"And you grab the Snitch and knock Malfoy off his broom," Ron said hopefully, "and he falls and breaks his neck!"  
  
"No," Harry said. "It's not a game."  
  
"You're flying alone?"  
  
Harry paused before answering.  
  
"No."  
  
"So, who're you flying with?"  
  
Another pause.  
  
"Cho."  
  
Ron leaned forward in interest.  
  
"Go on."  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"It's always the same dream. I'm trying to catch her, only I can't. Every time I get close, she streaks away, laughing, and no matter how I swerve and dart, I can't quite catch her."  
  
"She outraces a Firebolt?" Ron said in disbelief.  
  
"It's a dream, Ron," Harry said in mild irritation. "The brooms aren't important."  
  
"I dunno," Ron said slowly. "I mean, think about it. In real life, you could catch Cho without trying -- you fly circles around her when you play Ravenclaw. But in your dream she always gets away. That must mean something."  
  
Harry thought a moment.  
  
"Yeah," he admitted. "Could be. Only -- "  
  
"Yeah?" Ron said, edging closer.  
  
"This last dream was different," Harry said.  
  
"You mean you caught her this time?" There was genuine excitement in Ron's voice.  
  
"Yes -- and no."  
  
"Well, that's clear!" Ron snorted.  
  
"Okay," Harry sighed, "here's what happened. It started out just like all the other times. Only this time I just sort of swooped down and plucked her right off her broom. She didn't even seem to be trying to get away this time. So I just scooped her up and plunked her down in front of me. Only..."  
  
"Yeah?" Ron said with a sly smile.  
  
"Only when I turned her around, it wasn't Cho -- it was -- Hermione."  
  
"What?" Ron nearly stood up. "Hermione? Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "She turned around and smiled at me."  
  
"Well? What did _you_ do?"  
  
"I don't remember," Harry said. "I think I woke up then."  
  
"Wow," Ron said, leaning back on his bed.  
  
"It must mean something," Harry said.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron.  
  
"Unquestionably," came a third voice from out of nowhere.  
  
Harry and Ron jumped up. A set of bedcurtains parted, revealing the face of Dean Thomas. He was smiling apologetically.  
  
"Sorry," Dean said, swinging his long legs over the bed. "I really didn't mean to listen in on a private conversation. I fell asleep doing my Divination homework -- always bores me stupid. Your voices woke me up, and I couldn't get up and leave, could I? So I just waited. I tried not to listen, but, well, bedcurtains aren't very good sound blockers, are they?"  
  
Harry could tell by the look on Dean's face that he hadn't meant to eavesdrop. And maybe another opinion couldn't hurt. Dean was a good student, almost as good as Hermione.  
  
"So," Harry said, breaking the awkward silence, "what d' _you_ think it means?"  
  
"I learned a bit about this stuff in Muggle school," Dean said. "Yeah, my dad's real big on education -- he went to Oxford after Hogwarts. So he sent me to a private boarding school to learn something useful until my Hogwarts letter arrived. Anyway, we had a semester of psychology in my last term there.  
  
"And Ron's right, it does mean something."  
  
"But what?" Harry said. Ron was listening also.  
  
"They told us," Dean said, tapping a finger to his chin as if to prod his memory, "that psychology is a process, a step-by-step journey to a destination. The first step is talking. And by that I mean free, open discussion. Don't think too hard about you _want_ to say -- just _say_ it. If you let your thoughts flow freely, the truth usually comes out."  
  
"Okay, then," Ron said, turning to Harry. "Let me try to remember exactly what you said. Every time you tried to catch Cho, she got away. But this last time, she didn't even _try_ -- she _let_ herself get caught. Of course, it wasn't Cho this time, it was Hermione. So, maybe you think that Cho doesn't want to be caught, but that Hermione _does_. And you just got tired of a pointless chase and wanted it to end with someone, _anyone_. Or did you? I mean, did you _just_ want it to end? Or did you want it to end a certain way?"  
  
"Ron, you amaze me sometimes," Dean said.  
  
Ron beamed, lifting his head in a professional manner.  
  
Harry fidgeted on his bed.  
  
"Some dreams are wishes," Dean said. "In fact, I remember a Muggle song my mum used to sing me. It went, 'A dream is a wish your heart makes.' Is it possible that you really wanted to catch Hermione all along?"  
  
"No," Harry said quickly -- perhaps too quickly.  
  
Dean was less than convinced. He began a new tack.  
  
"Okay, then. Let's say you want Cho. Dreams are frequently mirrors of reality. You dream of catching Cho because you want to catch her in real life, right?"  
  
Harry nodded, though in a manner less than adamant.  
  
"So, why do you want to catch her?"  
  
Ron jerked his head toward Dean.  
  
"Are you daft? Have you _seen_ her?"  
  
"She's pretty," Dean conceded. "But so are a lot of other girls. Why her, Harry?"  
  
Harry wrinkled his brow in thought.  
  
"Quidditch, maybe? We have something in common -- both Seekers."  
  
"You probably wouldn't have noticed her if she wasn't the Ravenclaw Seeker, then?"  
  
"Guess not," Harry muttered.  
  
"How well do you know her?"  
  
"Not well," Harry admitted.  
  
"Ever had a real chat with her, off the field?"  
  
"No."  
  
"So, you really don't know her at all, then? The real Cho, I mean?"  
  
Harry pressed his mouth into a thin line, but gave no other answer.  
  
"Okay, then," Dean said, his mind at work behind his deep brown eyes. "What do we have? You chase a girl you don't know, for reasons you don't understand. Sounds a bit frustrating. So, in your dream, you end the frustration by catching her. That's it. It's over. Except that you _can't_ catch Cho, because you don't know who you're catching. Instead, you catch someone you _do_ know.  
  
"Cho is a flier. An Air Spirit, if you will. A -- Golden Snitch. But once you've caught it, it isn't really yours. Its wings are still beating, trying to fly away again. No, that would solve nothing. Instead you had to catch something -- some_one_ -- grounded, both physically and emotionally."  
  
"That's Hermione," Ron nodded emphatically. "Steady as a rock. Did you know she hasn't ridden a broom since first year?"  
  
"Hmm, yes," Dean said thoughtfully. "Replacing a girl who lives in the air with one who doesn't fly at all. It all fits."  
  
Dean and Ron both stared at Harry, whose face remained inscrutable, yet whose eyes smoldered as from deep within.  
  
"Of course," Dean added, "it may not be that simple."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
It was Ron who spoke, but Harry's attention was riveted on Dean.  
  
"Let's return to the wish premise. Cho clearly represents an empty wish. But was Hermione merely a convenient substitute -- or was she the real wish all along?"  
  
"What?" Harry said, more loudly than he'd intended. "What's that mean?"  
  
"I mean," said Dean, "how do you really feel about Hermione?"  
  
"She's my friend," Harry said instantly. He felt the need to say more, but nothing else came.  
  
"Your _best_ friend," Dean said.  
  
"Next to Ron, yeah."  
  
"_Next_ to Ron -- or _equal_ to him?"  
  
Harry turned instinctively to look at Ron. He did think of Ron as a brother, the one he'd always wished for as a proper substitute for Dudley. What, then, did that make Hermione? The thought came with difficulty, and he pushed it away.  
  
"I never thought about it," he said unconvincingly.  
  
"Ron's like a brother to you, isn't he?"  
  
Harry started. Could Dean read his mind? Out of the corner of his eye he could just see Ron, grinning.  
  
"So, what about Hermione, then? Same thing?"  
  
Harry was about to say 'yes' just to end it there, but he hesitated a moment too long, and Dean stepped in quickly.  
  
"Ever think of snogging her?"  
  
"WHAT?" Harry sat straight up and stared wide-eyed at Dean.  
  
"Well?" said Dean calmly.  
  
"Wh -- no -- NO, NEVER!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Harry gaped.  
  
"Why _not_?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron said abruptly, scrutinizing Harry as if trying to see him through a clouded glass. "Why not?"  
  
Harry stared at Ron in disbelief.  
  
"Answer the question, Harry," Dean said, the shadow of a smile on his lips.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron.  
  
Harry rounded on Ron.  
  
"Piss off!" he snapped. "I might expect it from Dean, with his psycho-Muggle-bollocks, but I thought you, at least -- "  
  
Harry flung himself down on his bed.  
  
Dean released his suppressed smile.  
  
"I think we're on to something here."  
  
"Yeah," Ron said. "Definitely."  
  
"Bugger the lot of you!" Harry barked, staring straight up at the canopy of his bed.  
  
"Is he always like this?" Dean asked Ron.  
  
"Pretty much, yeah."  
  
"So, he's never given any signs that he fancies Hermione?"  
  
"No," Ron said analytically. "But he's kind of closed, if you know what I mean -- keeps a lot of stuff to himself."  
  
"I do _not_ fancy Hermione!" Harry said grindingly. "And stop talking about me like I'm not here!"  
  
"Touchy, too," Dean said. "Classic symptom of denial."  
  
"Sod this!" Harry said, jumping up.  
  
"Harry," Dean said with genuine surprise, and just a touch of concern, "what's the big deal? Hermione's a sweet girl -- I'd certainly have a go at her if she was willing."  
  
"You're joking!" Ron said.  
  
Harry snorted.  
  
"Did you see him at the Yule Ball last year? Went stag, didn't he? Had a go at nearly all the fourth-years, and half the third-years for that matter."  
  
"Not Ginny?" Ron said in disbelief, glaring at Dean.  
  
"She was with Neville," Dean said quickly.  
  
"And if she wasn't?"  
  
Dean cleared his throat, grateful (not for the first time) that his brown skin could not blush, else his face would have rivaled Ron's hair in brilliance of hue.  
  
"I'll cripple you!" Ron said, balling his fists.  
  
"If you two are going to have a barney," Harry said, rising to his feet, "you don't need me."  
  
"I'll sort you out later, mate," Ron said to Dean, who tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile.  
  
Ron caught Harry by the shoulder. Harry turned, his eyes coals of green flame.  
  
"Harry," Ron said quietly, "what is it? Why is it such a big deal? Hermione _is_ a girl -- a fact she not-so-delicately pointed out to me last year, you'll recall. And since Madam Pomfrey shrank her teeth, she _is_ kind of pretty."  
  
Harry turned away from Ron.  
  
"Wait a minute," Ron said slowly. "Last year -- this doesn't have anything to do with -- "  
  
Harry shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.  
  
"It does! Blimey, Harry! Look, I admit I was jealous of Krum. And I did want to take Hermione to the Yule Ball, if only as a last resort -- " He paused, shivering at the memory of those very words as spoken -- scathingly -- by Hermione last year. "But it wasn't -- I dunno -- it was a possessive thing, I guess. She belonged with us, not him. And it was no small amount of guilt, too. I as much as said that she wasn't good enough to get a date unless it was with you or me, out of friendship or pity. And then, seeing Krum appreciate what we'd both taken for granted -- well, it woke me up. It made me appreciate Hermione, I mean really appreciate her. And I do kind of like her in that way. She really is a special girl, the kind a bloke could really go for.  
  
"But honestly, Harry! Me and Hermione? We'd end up killing each other! You know we would!"  
  
Ron's shoulders abruptly hunched as he drew a slow breath.  
  
" 'Course, I still might've taken a shot. Had it all mapped out, in fact, starting with the Summer holidays. Going to invite her to stay at the Burrow and everything. But then -- I saw her kiss you on Platform 9 3/4. Sure, it was just a kiss on the cheek -- but she didn't kiss _me_, did she? And -- you didn't see the look in her eyes, after you'd gone off with your uncle. I knew that look straight off. It's a look a girl reserves for that one special bloke."  
  
Harry shook his head, sighing deeply.  
  
"I can't be that stupid."  
  
" 'Course you can, mate! We _all_ are! We're guys! In the blood, innit?"  
  
Harry turned about to face Ron, a smile returning slowly to his strained face. But Ron saw a hint of pain behind the emerald eyes, mingled with apprehension.  
  
"Not surprising you missed the signs," Ron said. "I mean, it's not like you've had anything really hairy on your plate the last few years, eh? Dunno what _I'd_ do if You-Know-Who had it in for _me_! Probably go crackers!  
  
"So, that's it, then! No worries! Well, that's not exactly true, is it? I mean, when you start to fancy a girl, that's when your worries _really_ begin! Glad it's not me!"  
  
They both grinned, feeling a great weight lift from them.  
  
"Hey," Harry said suddenly, seeing Dean moving silently toward the staircase. "Wait up!"  
  
Dean turned.  
  
"Thanks, mate," Harry said.  
  
Dean smiled, turning once more toward the stairs.  
  
"Hold on," Ron said with narrowed eyes. "Where you off to?"  
  
"Astronomy in ten minutes," Dean said. "See you."  
  
"Astronomy?" Ron puzzled. "Dean's in _our_ Astronomy class -- and it's at _night_!"  
  
Ron shot a glance at Harry.  
  
"He'd never!"  
  
Harry smiled.  
  
"Wouldn't he?"  
  
"I mean, _she'd_ never -- "  
  
"I dunno," Harry said. "Between Dean and Neville -- if you were a girl, who would _you_ choose?"  
  
"I'll kill him!" Ron muttered. "No, I'll _curse_ him!"  
  
"Not if you don't get up to the Astronomy tower," Harry observed.  
  
"Wait," Ron said, screwing up his face. "I know how Dean thinks -- he _wants_ me to go to the Astronomy tower -- or does he -- ?"  
  
His hands flailing wildly in the air, Ron disappeared down the stairs.  
  
Smiling broadly, Harry followed at a leisurely pace.  
  
He found the common room sparsely occupied, most of the students having gone out to enjoy the unseasonable weather.  
  
Harry surveyed the room. A very large book was balancing itself on a table near the fireplace. Just visible over the edge was a crown of bushy brown hair.  
  
Steeling himself, Harry walked over and lightly tapped the book.  
  
Hermione looked up and flashed a bright smile.  
  
"It's much too nice a day to sit in the common room reading," Harry said clumsily. "Fancy a walk, then?"  
  
"Where to," Hermione asked, setting the large book aside.  
  
"Oh, anywhere."  
  
"What's going on?" she said suspiciously, though still smiling. "You've never asked me for a walk before."  
  
"Then it's past time, isn't it?"  
  
Harry held out his hand; Hermione took it, rising.  
  
"Are you sure you're Harry Potter?"  
  
"The only one you're going to see this year," Harry replied confidently. "That suit you?"  
  
"That suits me fine," Hermione said, squeezing his hand.  
  
And together they walked through the portrait hole and out into the September sunshine.  
  
  


***

  
  
**Author's Note:** An air of mystery surrounds Dean Thomas. One book tells us that Dean, like Harry, "grew up with Muggles." That explains his devotion to football/soccer over Quidditch. But he can't be Muggle-born, for he was not mentioned as being in danger from the basilisk in Chamber of Secrets. What's the answer, then? I fancy that Dean's dad is an Unspeakable, working for the Department of Mysteries branch of the Ministry of Magic. Dean may have been given into the care of a family friend. If Mr. Thomas had such a Muggle friend, he himself might have been Muggle-born, like Hermione and Lily Evans. Whatever the answer, it's an interesting thought.  
  
**Note from Fae Princess:** If there are some of you out there who wonder _why_ I always put a note at the end of Stoneheart's work, no matter what the story or what the situation...the answer is...because I _can_. I have an infinite amount of power over what gets posted here...*devilish smile* It's a small thing, but it's a beginning to when I eventually take over the world. World domination! Who's in? I'll give you a Country! Hehe. I'm only _kidding_.  
  
Dream Girl happens to be my favorite story by Stoneheart. I read it ages ago, when he first sent it to me, and no...there's no sequel, but you can always ask Stoneheart for one! Hassle him with tons of reviews pleading for more. Of course, if you want more, you could read his other stories if you already haven't. But you should leave a review one way or another, not just for him, but for me, too. I want to know what you thought of my favorite story by my favorite netpal and author! Am I the only one who thinks this story is marvelous and perfect? I doubt it. :)  
  



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